


Momentary Thanks

by SickSadWorldLady



Series: Someone Goofed [1]
Category: Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-21
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-02-26 10:53:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2649335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SickSadWorldLady/pseuds/SickSadWorldLady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part one of the two part holiday series 'Someone Goofed.' Story takes place in Season 3 between Lord of the Pi's and Spit and Eggs based on a loose timeline I could devise. This installment is told from Veronica's POV of Thanksgiving at the Mars. Part two will be from Logan's POV of the same events.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Momentary Thanks

_“Come on Veronica, everyone needs a slutty Mrs. Claus outfit. It’s like a rite of passage or something,” Lilly huffed as she flopped herself onto her luxurious queen bed, all fun and loose, the ying to Veronica’s nervous and protected yang._

_“We’re talking about your_ brother _here Lilly, that’s so wrong,” Veronica replied timidly to her best friend, wrapping a strand of hair back and forth around her finger, fidgeting at Lilly’s unbridled maturity, even as a high school freshman._

_“Well you get so awkward when I talk about Logan and me.” Veronica blushed redder now._

_“Plus it’s not like I don’t see you both go dopey-eyed for each other all day. That’s far more nauseating.” Lilly rolled her eyes and threw back her head dramatically._

_“Last year I wrapped myself in my Celeste’s special expensive wrapping paper wearing nothing but lingerie, and showed up to the poolhouse. Unwrapping was the best part.” Her smile was wild now, her enormous blue eyes dancing as she told yet another story of her and Logan’s sexcapades._

_“Where did you get lingerie?” She also wanted to ask how she got to Logan’s without anyone asking why a middle schooler was wearing wrapping paper but as modest as she was, she loved listening to Lilly’s stories._

_“Celeste. Duh. You just have to be more adventurous Veronica. Guys like a woman who takes control.”_

_“Fine,” she smiled shyly, a little mischievousness peeking through. “Should we go to the mall and find the raciest Christmas outfit we can find so I can seduce your brother?”_

_“Who needs the mall when we have my closet?” Suddenly Lilly dove off the bed and into her massive closet, throwing red and green and gold bits of clothing her way. It was like a scene from a holiday music video featuring a peppy teenage pop star._

_“This is perfect!” She exclaimed, holding up a tight red number with white furry piping. “Veeeeery Merry Christmas Mr. President.”_

 

\--

 

“Veronica, you there? Hey, Earth to Mars One.”

 

Veronica shook her head lightly and turned to Mac.

 

“Mars reporting transmission issues.”

 

Veronica loved the holidays once. When she was younger, the It’s a Wonderful Life fantasy of her youth permeated every nook and cranny of their modest house, as she reveled equally in the glitzy glimmer of her wealthier friends’ celebrations. Lilly always did everything with an over-the-top opulence, the holidays being no exception. Meanwhile, her counterpart, Lynn Echolls, used the holidays as a literal movie set, acting her way through a grand party, carefully hiding a less picturesque backlot. And then there was her own mother, whose love of the holidays provided the perfect alibi for her spiraling alcoholism. Eggnog, after all, was far more socially acceptable than a vodka on the rocks in the middle of the day. Before that fateful October day, Christmas had been Veronica’s favorite time of year, a naïve justification for all of the sudden joy that surrounded her, albeit momentarily.

 

Now, the holidays were another reminder of what once was, and the creeping of Christmas into her pre-Thanksgiving sulking further solidified her 180 degree turn from Cindy Lou Who into pre-heart-grows-ten-sizes Grinch.

 

To make matters worse, tensions between her and Logan were fraught. After a few months of honeymoon bliss, they needed to once again navigate their own boundaries as a couple. His savior complex--a side effect, she presumed, of watching the two women closest to him self-destruct--was fighting a losing battle against her own stubborn independence and gun-shy intimacy. She knew it wasn’t Logan’s fault, that he couldn’t understand, but ever since she had been drugged and nearly raped, again, she’d awoken from nightmares several times a week, sweaty, terrified, and determined. The women in her dreams were never her. Parker was the first, but as time wore on they took the faces and figures of random women she saw, the girl in front of her getting coffee, the timid girl from her criminology class. No one was safe from her imagination. They never would be either, until she caught the rapist, _her_ near rapist. No matter what she said to others, her drive to find the culprit wasn’t altogether altruistic, it was mostly selfish actually. She needed the dreams to stop.  

 

While Logan was fantastic at reading her, at pushing her buttons, he faltered considerably in his ability to filter that information. He struggled with self-control in every aspect of his being: drugs, alcohol, violence, and most especially her. Unfortunately, unlike drugs and alcohol, Veronica fought back. She wasn’t just the rabbit leading him down the hole, she was the cookies, cakes, and liquid-filled bottles that wrestled his physical and emotional state—and he hadn’t yet mastered the moderation and compromise needed to get him through the next door.

 

So they’d fought, and after he tired of fighting, they made up briefly, physically, but not emotionally. She didn’t know how much more fight they had in them. Love wouldn’t conquer everything, and they both sucked at compromise.

 

Instead, they fought a doomed battle against the current, making headway for a moment as they kid themselves into believing they’d make it to shore safely.

 

It was because of this fight that Veronica found herself at the red and green bedecked mall, shopping for a gift she wouldn’t give him for four weeks, desperately planning a future she wasn’t sure she had.

 

She had dragged Mac along with her, knowing Mac would do anything to get out of the house on Thanksgiving Eve, a house filled with family she now knew wasn’t hers, not by blood anyways. Mac hadn’t questioned her when she’d asked her to come along. She’d just shrugged and smiled and said, “Whatever you say Veronica, you’re the boss.”

 

Wallace, Parker, and Piz were out of town for the holiday, which left the two of them and Logan, and she’d heard Dick, although that was one case she had no interest in investigating.

 

“Are you ready? As much as I love the authenticity of a Neptune mall around the holidays, my mom will break out the hunting gear if I’m not home for mandatory ‘family time.’” Air quotes on the final words.

 

“Oh yeah, good to go. Just in case though, I’d avoid sudden movements, and maybe invest in some bright orange.”

 

As they walked past the families priming themselves for Black Friday shopping, the smell of soft, gooey, pretzels, and Christmas-colored candy confections, Veronica thought back to those times when she’d come to the mall with Lilly or her mom, a perfect microcosm of Neptune itself: pretty, clean, and artificially segregated.

 

\--

 

“So Logan’s spending Thanksgiving with you and your dad?” Mac said as they sped along. It had been a quiet drive thus far, Veronica concentrating all of what little focus she had on the road ahead. She really, really did not want to focus on said dinner.

 

“Yeah. Trina’s working on some budget indie film, and even my dad couldn’t stomach leaving Logan at the Grand to order room service alone,” she responded tightly.

 

“Don’t sound so thrilled there Mars, you’ll scare the children.”

 

Veronica took a pause as she eased up to the red light before looking at Mac on her right.

 

“Sorry, it’s just, it’s not like dinner with my dad and Logan is a Norman Rockwell painting. Especially not lately.”

 

“At least you won’t get pelleted with BB guns by cousins trying out their future NRA supporters of America memberships.”

 

“I’m more worried there’ll be real bullets instead.”

 

“Cheer up Veronica, or you might just get a visit from Jacob Marley tonight.”

 

If only, she’d gladly take an opaque, elderly ghost over the tan and taut victims of her actual dreams.

 

They had pulled up to Mac’s single family dwelling, cars lining the driveway and the street. A large festive group of people who loved each other was waiting on the other side of the door. Despite the front she put on, Veronica knew Mac appreciated her family a little more after trips like these. Mac’s family loved her even though she wasn’t their own, whereas Veronica’s mom bolted even though she was.

 

“Happy Thanksgiving Mac. Call me if you need a quick escape.”

 

“Done.”

 

Mac hopped out of the car, and Veronica braced a minute, before pulling away toward her own home for a very solitary pre-Thanksgiving evening. As soon as she walked into the house, both she and her dad would plaster on brave faces, begin trimming the (always fake) tree, and trade barbs about their lack of gift-giving ability, but ever since Lilly’s death and her mom’s departure, their general routine felt hollower this time of year. These days she was most thankful when it was over, and the weight of holiday expectations lifted.

 

\--

 

“Honey, did you tell Logan what time to get here?”

 

“Gunuhuh.” She grumbled. It was 10:30 am on Thanksgiving morning and she was lying on her stomach, her pillow over her head to muffle the sounds of clanking coming from the kitchen.

 

“I didn’t know Elvish was one of the subjects you were taking this semester.” Keith Mars had popped into her room wearing an ironic ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron, a chef’s knife covered in potato skins in his hand.

 

“Yes. I told him. 4 pm. Be here or miss out on the wishbone, which let’s be real here isn’t much of a threat with a dinner of three of the unluckiest people on the planet.”

 

Keith sighed heavily, unamused by his daughter’s sudden onslaught of teenage-angst. “He’s welcome to come over early, if he wants.”

 

“That might seem more sincere if you weren’t holding a knife.”

 

“I’m dead serious Veronica.”

 

“I’ll let him know.”

 

“Only daughter, so cranky is she.” He shook his head as he walked back to the kitchen.

 

Burrowing back into bed, she tried desperately to get even ten more minutes of sleep. Last night she’d had another nightmare. The friendly salesgirl she recognized from her cognitive psych class, with the light blond hair and tight, pink, crewneck short-sleeved shirt, the one who looked a lot like herself, pre-Nancy Drew iteration, now stared at her with dead eyes that reflected Veronica back in them. Her own sadistic mind had added a holiday twist, the girl wore not a wig, but a Santa hat as she creeped around her mind.

 

Her phone buzzed next to her.

 

 _Can I come over early?_ Logan texted.

 

She grabbed her phone off the dresser and quickly typed a response.

 

_If you want. My dad’s just cooking dinner. Nothing exciting_

_Do you want me to even come at all?_

 

 _Of course!_ She faked enthusiasm; it was so much easier with punctuation than in person. _I just don’t want you to be bored_

 

_Thank you for your concern but I’ll be fine. I’ll be there around noon_

 

\--

 

A little over an hour later Logan called her from the apartment complex parking lot.

 

“Want to go for a ride?” His voice was raw, like he hadn’t slept terribly well either.

 

“Logan it’s Thanksgiving, nothing’s open.” After a losing battle against sleep, she’d taken a shower and was curled up in her room wearing a gray hoodie and jeans already starting her post-holiday homework. Exhausted and depleted she had no interest in going anywhere.

 

“Then we’ll just drive around or stop at a park or the beach or a parking lot. I don’t really care. I just want to talk.”

 

“Should I be worried?”

 

“Do you ever worry?”

 

“Fine, I’ll be out in a minute.” She gave up, stopping a fight before it could start.

 

Her dad didn’t take her sudden departure terribly well, but he just shrugged and reminded her to be back before 4.

 

She hopped into Logan’s yellow SUV and he smiled, giving her a quick kiss, before slouching back, sliding the car into drive, and taking off.

 

They drove for awhile without speaking. Not a strained silence, per say, but not a cozy one either. Scenes of an empty Neptune glided past her as she let her head rest on the passenger side window.

 

Finally, he pulled into an empty parking lot, parking across three spots just because. He was like that. Why follow the law when it might be enforced, let alone when it wouldn’t. It was both an infuriating and exciting trait.

 

“The holidays suck.” It was so matter of fact. He wasn’t even saying it to her, just the empty concrete plane before them.

 

“Thanks for the update Ebenezer. We drove for half an hour so you could state the obvious?”

 

“You know I always hated my mom’s parties,” he went on, ignoring her. “They were so obviously a display of Echolls’ family bullshit. Mom trying to act like we were old money, which I mean who was she kidding, and Aaron pretending he wasn’t sleeping with half the double x-chromosomed attendees.

 

“Now I find myself missing them,” he paused momentarily, this time not just not looking at her, but looking out the door window opposite her, rubbing his temple with his right thumb. “Sure it was all fake, but fake sure as hell beats non-existent when you think about it.”

 

She touched his shoulder lightly, letting him know she was still there, as he sunk a little further into the driver’s seat

 

“I used to love the holidays,” she broke in, trying to think of something to change the mood. Logan was a sharer when he wanted to be, when he let you in, and she wasn’t. She wasn’t built for all the raw emotion. She tried sometimes, but it always felt disingenuous coming from her. Still she knew meeting him halfway was the decent girlfriend thing to do. Give him a nibble of honesty, dangle the carrot, let him think he was getting all of her.

 

“The Grinch used to love Christmas too.” He grinned at her.

 

“It’s the most I can remember my mom being happy. Looking back it was pretty clearly the added alcohol, but her eyes lit up a little more around the holidays.”

 

“Yeah, I think my mom really did like planning those parties, even if the logic behind them was twisted.”

 

“And Lilly. I mean she was always full of life, but she really loved the holidays a little extra.” They were in a safe space, sharing about other people, ignoring their own issues. She didn’t mind treading here for awhile, but she was terrified of the deep end.

 

“For the sake of our relationship, I will remain silent on Lilly’s idea of holiday celebrations,” he said smirking big and wide, eyes devilish.

 

“Like I don’t already know.”

 

“You’re making me blush Veronica.” He mock fanned himself.

 

“Trust me on this, no one blushed more than I did when I got the first hand accounts.”

 

“Thankfully Duncan didn’t share Lilly’s propensity for gossip. I don’t think I could handle those images.” He brushed a stray hair from her cheek, softening his tone from playful to wistful. “It was bad enough sleeping in the other room.”

 

“Logan, I…” She didn’t know what to say. Ever since Duncan left they basically didn’t mention him, but she knew what it had done to him, seeing them together.

 

“Don’t worry about it Mars. Bygones.” He waved his hand off into the air, pushing the past away.

 

For a moment she just looked at him, taking in the moment. His soft brown eyes and the baby fat still lingering in his cheeks gave him a boyish look she knew he exploited often. If you didn’t know Logan better he had a cherubic quality to him; if you did know him, well the only cherub he’d be playing was in a South Park Christmas special.

 

“So did you bring me out here just to rehash holidays past? Is our next stop Christmas present, and then Christmas future?”

 

“You’re confusing my milky white complexion for that of a ghost again. I should be offended, but I’ll choose to thank my moisturizer instead.” He touched his cheek with his forefingers as his eyes lifted up. “Perfection baby.”

 

“So it was to discuss our former sex lives? Because I think we can safely head back now. I know all your dirty little secrets with Lilly.” It was meant to be lighthearted, but when she heard it echo back to her she knew it hadn’t come out that way. Instead, it had an air of annoyance, wrapped in the slightest bit of jealousy. A winning gift of comment.

 

“Veronica.” Suddenly he grew quiet. “I just wanted to be with you, away from everyone and all the shit.”

 

“I could have met you at your place?” Always the pragmatist.

 

“Then we really wouldn’t have talked,” he said, lips curling up into a tiny smirk as he audibly sighed.

 

“You know we could skip the whole talking thing here? I doubt anyone would notice.” Was it hot in there? She was beginning to feel the emotional walls of their relationship closing in on her and she didn’t like it. Conversations like this didn’t usually end well with Logan.  

 

“Oh I know. Don’t think I haven’t thought about it,” he said, but not flirtatiously, more as a statement of fact than anything else.

 

Then he didn’t say anything for a minute.

 

“I want to help you.” His voice quivered just a bit. “I need to actually. I can’t sleep. I keep having nightmares where you, you’re... I don’t get to you anyways...” He trailed off.

 

Just a hunch but she didn’t think telling him about her own rape-themed nightmares would comfort him any.

 

“You can’t always save me though Logan.” She turned to look straight at him, her voice dropping. Unlike the previous fights, she didn’t say it to be cruel, to get him to quit the possessive crap, she said it sadly and earnestly. He wouldn’t always be there to save her. He needed to know that, not because she didn’t need saving, which she didn’t, not in a broad sense, but because he would drive both of them crazy trying to do so.  

 

“It’s just not realistic, and we’ve talked about this, I’m not going to stop being me.”

 

“I know. I know. But I can’t let go, not yet. I needed to be with you, alone. To be us.”

 

“And?”

 

He paused again, staring right at her with an intensity that scared her silly.

 

“And I still can’t.” He smiled warily. “I can’t quit you Veronica Mars.”

 

“Good.” She exhaled softly at him, more relieved than she expected to be. “I’m not ready to quit you either Jack.”

 

“So want to ditch the talking thing?” A knowing smile grew between them. It wasn’t that everything was ok, far from it, but it was ok for the moment, and that was the best they could give each other.

 

“Aren’t we supposed to be giving thanks right now?”

 

“Oh trust me, I’ll be giving plenty of thanks if you hop into the back with me. Lots and lots of amens too.”

 

\--

 

“So do we want to go around and give thanks?” Her dad was surveying the two of them, unsure what to do. They were sitting around the Mars family table with food for ten in front of them. When her dad had first asked Veronica if Logan wanted to come over for Thanksgiving she thought it was a joke. He had assured her he was serious, and that despite his hesitations about their relationship, Logan shouldn’t have to spend the holiday alone in a hotel. He was protective, not outright cruel.

 

Veronica started. “Well I’m thankful for this lovely meal with two of my favorite men and a notable absence of bloodshed.”

 

“Aww shucks sweetie. I’m thankful to have such a loving, devoted daughter who would know how to dispose of the blood if need be.” They grinned at each other.

 

Next to her she caught Logan biting down on his lip.

 

“I’m thankful you invited me,” he said finally, barely audible.

 

Her dad looked at him surprised. She looked at him stunned.

 

“You’re always welcome here Logan.” Her dad said lightly.

 

“Thanks.” He still wasn’t making eye contact with either of them, focusing instead on the mashed potato crater filled with gravy, his fork threatening to cause an abrupt eruption.

 

“I know I’m not your favorite person in the world.” He continued, looking up at her dad for the first time, left eye cocked up and a don’t-bother-to-argue-you-won’t-fool-anyone look plastered on his face. “And I get it, no I do. But all I want is to protect your daughter, even if she won’t let me. I can’t speak for Veronica, because no one can, she’d kill them.” At this he shifted his eyes briefly onto her and she felt herself redden slightly. “So I don’t know if she feels the same, but I love her. And I just thought you should know that. That no matter what happens I will always love her and want her safe and happy, even if I don’t always have the best way of showing it.”

 

If a DNA test hadn’t already confirmed it for her, the matching look her dad wore would have been all the proof she needed. He sat there, mirroring her wide eyes and open mouth, the only difference was her slight quiver.

 

“I know son.” Her dad said, looking right at Logan, regaining a tight smile on his lips. “I appreciate it. I just want her safe and happy too.”

 

Logan was back to looking at his food.

 

“Should we dig in?” Keith proposed.

 

She nodded her head and smiled, as she reached her hand under the table, brushing it up against Logan’s knee before resting it for a second there and squeezing. Bewildered, she started in on her food as Logan and her dad, on either side of her, silently conquered their plates.

 

The rest of dinner progressed relatively smoothly, and her dad seemed to lay off the usual interrogation act, lobing easy questions at Logan and not pressing too much on his answers.

 

Afterward, Logan offered to help her do the dishes, prompting the second shocked look of the night from Veronica and her dad, but she readily accepted the help and the opportunity to spend a little more time with him. As much as she had been dreading dinner, she now found herself wanting the night to last just a little longer.

 

They were talking softly so that her dad couldn’t hear, huddled together at the sink, Logan washing as Veronica dried, a strangely domestic activity. “I’m glad you came today,” she whispered to him sincerely, shyly.

 

“I meant what I said.” He was looking at her again with those big brown eyes. “I don’t know what we’re doing, but no matter what you have to know I meant what I said.”

 

“I know. I know you do Logan.” She returned his gaze. “I love you too.”

 

“Do you though?” His eyebrows rose slightly, questioning her.

 

“Yes, I do. I can’t promise you that will solve everything, but I do love you. I just…” She paused, unsure of whether to continue.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I just don’t know if that’s enough. Loving you, you loving me.”

 

“I don’t know either,” he said with a poker face, not letting her read whether he actually bought it or not. “But we’re too far into this for me to stop caring about you now Butch. Looks like we’re friends.” The last bit was said with the faintest smile.

 

He looked behind him, her dad comfortably out of sight, and placed his hand on the small of her back as he kissed her forehead. Meeting his eyes, she leaned in to kiss him and he caught her lip on his, soft and supple, quick but passionate, as his hand traveled up to the back of neck.

 

“I’ll never stop being your friend Veronica,” he whispered pulling away. “I will never stop loving you or trying to protect you. No matter how much you hate me for it. But I sure would miss that.”

 

Blushing she turned back to drying the dishes and muttered under her breath for only him to hear, “Maybe later I’ll show you more things you’d miss.”

 

\--

 

 

“How about you stay Logan?” Her dad walked into the kitchen about twenty minutes later. “We’re watching _White Christmas_ , a little Mars family tradition.”

 

“I’d like that.”

 

They joined her dad in the living room as he popped the DVD into the machine and settled in to the couch, finishing off a magnificently bizarre but wonderful Thanksgiving.

 

It was clear now to her that some sort of molecular bond had wound its way around the two of them when they weren’t looking, invisible to the human eye, but impossible to break. They’d always be connected, but she also knew they couldn’t continue on this path without permanent damage. If they did they’d only grow to hate other. Maybe in the future they could make it work; maybe when they’d grown up; maybe when they’d learned to be in healthy relationships, when they learned what those looked like, felt like, how they functioned. Maybe then. She’d even allow herself to hope they could be together then, in that idealistic future.  

 

They wouldn’t break up tonight, it might not be for another week, or even month, but it was coming all the same. The writing was written in ink on the wall. Neither of them was ready yet for what they had, how they felt. They’d been forced to deal with too much too quick, a slow cooker recipe they’d stuck in a pressure cooker. It couldn’t work like that. She knew, and she thought he knew too, that the only way to preserve what they had was to bow out. Let the scene end naturally and leave it to fate to write a spectacular final act. They’d been hinting at it all day. It would hurt, horribly tightening a rope around her heart that only time would loosen, but it was the only way.

 

Still, she was happy for the scene to linger just a little longer, enjoying a few more numbers before the curtain. On her left her dad had fallen asleep in the big lounger chair, illuminated by the TV and the red glow of the lights bouncing off the small fake tree they’d put up last night. To her right, Logan’s eyes had closed and his breathing settled, just on the verge of falling asleep. Hearing her dad’s light snoring, she took the opportunity to quietly push herself into Logan, gently resting her head on his chest. His arm moved from the back of the couch around her back, drawing her closer to him as he opened his eyes.

 

She looked up at him. “Thank you.”

 

“For what Bobcat?” He purred

 

“Tonight. This was the best holiday I can remember, and it didn’t even include a naughty rendition of A Christmas Carol.”

 

“The night is young Tiny Tim.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “I’m serious.”

 

“Why Veronica Mars,” he whispered as his eyes, tired and worn, crinkled up at the corners with the subtlest of grins. “I think you’re going soft.”

 

“Not yet, buddy, but some day.” Smiling, she nestled herself further into his soft, warm body, allowing her eyes to droop close, contented by her own honesty. Some day.

 

In the background the movie hummed softly along as she drifted off to sleep.

  
_“Well, if that’s love, somebody goofed.”_


End file.
